Wait, There's More!
by Djinns
Summary: Right after Living Doll. I just couldn't wait...
1. It's Raining Pain

**Chapter One**

**It's Raining Pain**

She could not move. It was the only thing she could think of: she could not move. Only her arm still felt alive, only connection to the world being that rain that kept falling. There was also a blasting pain in all of her body, but it didn't felt as real as the cold water dripping from above. She listened to the drops of rain; the sounds helped her figure out what had happened to her.

She was under a car, or what she thought was a car. The smells and the noise could've betrayed her, as well as the pain could've blind her. But how she got there, she could not remember.

All she knew is that she could not move. And felt like she could never move again.

**(in the lab)**

Grissom's mind was exploding from the pain. Sara's name, Sara's voice, Sara's kisses, Sara's smiles, all Sara. Nothing less, nothing more. He had wanted to rush the interrogation: it was a bad move. Now Natalie was in a serious crisis, and she wouldn't talk for hours. Until then, his girlfriend could die, if she wasn't already. The moving arm of the miniature seemed to mock him as he drank another cup of coffee, trying to force his mind to solve the problem. The liquid was too hot, he felt it burn down to his stomach as he thought of Sara.

Sara under a car, in the desert. Needing help. Dying.

Catherine's voice didn't bring him back to the lab. He was still there, in the desert. He would give his life to hold Sara's hand again.

"Grissom? You want to talk about what happened in the interrogation room...?"

He looked at her blankly.

"No."

His eyes went back to the miniature, searching for a detail that could lead them to his lover.

"There was nothing special with the sand used to build it. It cannot help us", the blonde woman said, even though she knew he wasn't paying attention. She came closer to the table, looking at the doll lying on the sand. She felt tears rushing to her eyes and fought to control herself. Sara was a good friend of hers: she never thought that one day, she may come to work and not see her. Sidle was almost living in the lab, except for the last few months. Now Catherine's suspicions were confirmed: the brunette was her boss's lover. But it didn't matter anymore: Sara was missing, and the whole team was breaking down.

Nick entered the room without a word, and stared at the two other CSI's. He wasn't able to hold himself together: Sara felt like a sister to him. He had trouble thinking straight, and he wondered if this was the way the others felt when he got buried alive. At least, he thought, they could know that he was still alive. Although the doll from the miniature showed she could still move, he wasn't sure Sara would last long. He found himself swearing against the rain that probably made her cold.

"There's a shrink with Natalie. She still won't talk, but at least she stopped her rambling on the doll." Nick's voice felt unreal. He looked at Grissom, who should be devastated. The man was standing still, an empty cup of coffee in his hand. Nick didn't have trouble figuring him like an abandoned kid. Grissom wasn't able to handle the case, but Stokes wasn't feeling better. As for Catherine, she looked like the strongest woman in the world right now. She was reading Natalie's files, not noticing that her colleague was staring at her. Warrick entered and went directly to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Nick mentally kicked himself to get useful.

Warrick raised his head as the first notes of _Ms Robinson_ filled the room. Nick and he looked at each other before turning to where the sound came from. In the lab nearby, a young man carefully classified his files, his head nodding with the rhythm. _Ms Robinson, Jesus loves you more than you will know_. Brown rushed to the lab and stopped the music.

"What you doing man? You have no respect?!"

The man shivered at the sound of the voice, filled with anger.

"I just... we do it all the time, listening to music. Nobody ever complained."

Nick entered the room, feeling that Warrick was about to lost it.

"Well this isn't a complain: this is an order. You shut your music or I'll make you shut it."

Brown's fists looked ready for some damage as Nick placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Calm down man. The guy just arrived, he probably didn't know."

The black CSI nodded his head and exit the room, feeling the urge to go outside. He didn't understand how he managed to reach for the door and run outside, under the pouring rain. The cold water awoke him and comforted him. He wondered if Sara could feel the rain. He had felt betrayed when Grissom had told the team that Sidle and him were a couple. Even if it didn't surprise him, he always thought that when his friend would decide to act on the feelings he had for the brunette, he would tell him. Even though the troubles with his wife kept him quite busy, he thought Grissom always knew he could talk to him. But Gil wasn't much of a talker: he kept everything inside. Warrick let the rain wash away his futile frustrations and then headed for inside.

**(at Natalie's)**

Sofia felt dizzy. The walls seemed to close on her, as all elements in the room were mocking her. The scent of the glue was turning her crazy, as she stared at the table were Natalie used to create miniatures. She enlighten the little pieces with her flashlight, holding on to it as it was the only way to reveal the truth.

"Table filled with pieces of miniatures. Still a little sand on the left, probably the one used for her last work. Smells like a mixture of paint and glue. Drawings everywhere, one of the car from Sara's miniature."

The blonde woman looked up as she felt someone's eyes on her.

" - Were you talking to me, Detective?

- No."

Curtis turned her attention back to the scene: she didn't have time to explain this was just the way she was working.

"If she draws everything before making the minis, she probably drew where she brought Sara. Meaning we may have new elements from those papers."

She started to look through the sheets, but there was nothing helpful. She looked around, in case there were other drawings somewhere. She smiled shortly.

"Of course. Best way of hiding something: putting it in front of everybody's eyes."

The desert scene was hanging on the wall. Sofia grabbed her cell phone and dialled.

" - Catherine Willows.

- It's Sofia. I found some drawings that may interest you in Natalie's apartment. I'll send a uniform to bring 'em to you, I'm not done yet."

- Thanks."

Sofia handed the evidence she had collected to the police officer. She sent him away before getting back to the main room. She thought of the treasure chases she used to do when she was a kid. She had to handle this case that way: keep in mind that not all clues lead to success, and that the treasure can be anywhere. The search can be long, it can be short. She flashed a smile: Sara would be the treasure today, and she would find her. She always won at those games, and she swore to herself that this time wouldn't be different.

The detective knew it wasn't her job to collect evidence from a suspect's house, but she couldn't stop now. They didn't have the time to wait for a CSI to get here, plus, the whole graveyard shift seemed devastated. She wasn't: she couldn't be. She liked Sara; her going missing was killing her too. But Sidle deserved better than tears and shock: she was a mystery, and she deserved to be treated like one. Sofia asked another officer to get her a map of Las Vegas' region as she took a sample of the sand on Natalie's desk. The nausea came back with the scent of paint and glue, but she fought it back.

Sofia smiled as she received the map she had asked for.

"Treasure map."

**(in the interrogation room)**

Natalie stared at the floor.

"It will end soon. She will, she will. I know her. She has to know, she has to see. She has to see and she will. It will end soon. She will. End it. Not me. I didn't kill her. She will."

A/N: A Gregless chapter, sorry! But he'll be back in the next one!


	2. To Bleach Or Not To Bleach

**Chapter Two**

**To Bleach Or Not To Bleach**

She wondered what time it was as she struggled to remain awake. A nausea rushed through her, forcing her to let go of another tear. The world, to her, was painful and cold. The rain still felt like a blessing, it kept her from falling into unconciousness. From the waist down, she couldn't feel a thing. She tried to raise her head, only to hit an unknown part of the car. Even though she had always been great in mechanics, she suddenly could figure out wich part of the car was holding her down.

She fought another nausea, knowing she now had a fever. She looked around her, but everything was black. She tried to find a way to keep herself away from sleep, even though unconciousness looked tempting. She thought of the times where she hid in the closets, when she was a kid, to avoid the yells. Darkness had become comfortable and relaxing.

This darkness was different: it was keeping her from the world, one that seemed better now. She had said for years that Earth was going crazy, and everyday at her job it was proven. But recently, she found out there were good things, too.

She thought of the cookies one of her foster moms baked for her, with Smarties in it. She smiled, wondering if the woman was still baking some. She would have to get in touch with her, when she'd get out of here, and get the recipe. That'd be great.

**(in the lab)**

Greg opened carefully the red car from the miniature, peeping once in a while at Grissom's autopsy of the doll. It seemed creepy to everybody, but the older CSI had insisted to do it. Meanwhile, Sanders had received the mission of inspecting the car, as Nick left to join Sofia at Natalie's apartment. He felt like destroying the tiny car in his hand, he could already feel the power rush it would give him. But he couldn't wreck evidence, especially if the evidence could save Sara.

He tried not to think about the first time they met, and how beautiful she was. Sure, she was mean to him sometimes but she acted the same around everyone else. Sara didn't want to let the others get close to her, while Greg needed to have closeness. They could have never work it out, even if they always made a great team. He looked at Grissom, and wondered for a second what it would be like if Sidle had chosen Greg instead of him. They would never know, he sighed.

He started his operation by opening the BACK...?, letting a small galon of bleach fall out of it. He sighed.

"Well here's no surprise."

Grissom raised his head at the voice, still holding the now cut-opened doll.

"Bleach? She's unable to changed her MO."

Greg put the galon away before continuing his work on the red mustang. Something inside the car caught his attention, and as he turned it over to see what it was, a liquid fell on his glove.

"What the hell? I got bleach on me now!"

**(at Natalie's)**

"You're done?", Nick asked Sofia as she was going to leave. She turned herself to face him.

"I've got calls to make, places to go. I'm detective, not CSI. All evidence I collected is right beside you, I did all I had to do, don't worry."

Stokes sighed. "Then what is there for me to do?"

Curtis grabbed her cell phone and started dialling while answering the man. "Everything I haven't done."

The blonde woman left in a hurry before Nick could ask her another question. He sighed again and entered the apartment. His presence here felt akward: Natalie was definitely a freak he couldn't understand. Those mental-problems persons always made him feel strange, as if they were truly belonging to another planet. He hated it.

He took several pictures of the shelves where Davis kept her instruments for her miniatures. The police officer behind him cleared his throat.

"She already did that, sir."

Stokes closed his eyes, feeling anger rising to his head. "Well I'll do it again. Could you let me do my job, please?"

He continued as if the other wasn't there, wondering if the officer was right or wrong. It didn't really matter, since Nick had to do it anyway. Since Curtis wasn't a CSI, every evidence she collected had to be verified all over again: she shouldn't have touch anything. Nick didn't mind, though: Catherine was already searching the drawings of the scene, saving them all a lot of time. Sofia had done the right thing, although technically, it was wrong.

"She took a sample of that already, sir."

Stokes sighed again. "Officer, could you wait out of the room, please?"

The man argued for a few seconds, telling Nick that it was his job to remain on the scene until the CSI was done.

"If I need anything, I'll call you. Now go."

The CSI pointed the door, but something in the corner of the room caught his attention. He didn't notice that the officer hadn't obeyed him as he let himself fall on his knees. He smelled the liquid that had fallen on the floor. Raising his head and staring at the wall in front of him, he got lost in his thoughts.

"What have you done, Natalie...?"

**(in Sofia's car)**

"I want all towing rents records, and I want them now."

She waited a few seconds, took a right turn and yelled at the person at the other end of the line.

"It is urgent! The car didn't fall from the sky! This could help us find CSI Sidle."

The detective stopped her car in the parking lot, siting still.

"You get me what I ask for and don't question me, alright? Good."

Sofia closed her cell phone, taking a deep breath before getting out of her car, and into the crime lab.

**(in the lab)**

"What the hell? I got bleach on me now!"

Grissom raised his head, staring at the young CSI's hand. He let the doll on the table as he came closer to Greg.

"This isn't bleach, Greg."

The young man approched his hand to his face and smelled the liquid that remained on his glove.

"Smells like... gas."

He bringed his attention back at the interior of the car.

"Why put a gas tank inside a wrecked car?"

The CSI looked at his boss, who looked shocked.

"So it can explode when you want it too."

Grissom's voice had no emotions, although his eyes were clearly saying he wanted this to end. Greg felt like running to his bed and crying for Sara to come and comfort him. In desesperate situations, he always needed to act like he was a four-year-old. He wished nothing of this was happening, and he certainly wish that it wasn't Sara under the car. He remembered when he got beaten up, the morning Sara arrived with the sun. She said: "I came here for you, Greg.", and it reminded him that under this massive pain, under the blood and the hurt, he still was human. Sara had that power: he wondered if he would be able to do the same for her. Would he recognize her if they found her dead, burnt to death?

Doc Robbins would match her dentition, and DNA would confirm what they would already know, but couldn't accept. Greg wasn't ready to let that happened: he continued his work on the car, waiting silently for Grissom to come back. He hadn't ask where he was leaving, but it was probably to tell about Greg's discovery to the police officers, just in case they had found the car. There could be a trap: there could be a bomb.

And then, no Sara.


	3. Hide and Seek

**Chapter Three**

**Hide And Seek**

She never thought someone could feel as cold as she was now. The rain refused to stop, and even got colder, turning her into ice. But she wasn't able to bring her hand back under the car: it would feel like giving up, and she couldn't do that. Some part of her screamed each time she tried to bring her right arm closer to her body: "They're not gonna find you if you hide, Sara".

She tried to focus on thinking about the others, the way they should be working the case. She wondered if they had caught the person who did this to her, or if that woman asked from money in exchange of her life. But what she couldn't understand was where she was kept. Under a car, in the desert, she had figured out. Why?

She had woke up when the metal was pressed down on her. The pain came slowly, just like the car's weight... Maybe that woman didn't want her to die just now. She wanted to see how long she would last, under that car and that rain, in the darkness where she couldn't even see her hand. She succeeded at moving it, though. But she didn't know what to do with it, except touching the car here and there, trying to memorize the space she was locked in.

She had to find a way to heat up, or the cold would make her fall into unconciousness. She couldn't let that happen; she had to think.

**(in the lab)**

Sofia almost ran all the way to Catherine's lab, where she was looking at the drawings Davis made for the miniatures. Without a word, she went beside the other woman and stared at the few piles of paper that layed on the table. The first one seemed to be filed with plans for the Izzy Delancy scale model. On top of the second was a drawing of Penny Garden's apartment from outside. The third pile showed the Mannleigh Chickens plant, while the drawings related to Barbara Tallman's case formed a fourth pile. The art work for Sara's miniature was laying on the rest on the table, waiting to be studied by Catherine.

"What's this?", the blonde CSI asked. Sofia stared at the sheet she was holding. On it was a drawing of a desert scenery, different than the one from Sara's scale model.

"I don't know... Maybe Natalie wanted to bring her there first, and then changed her mind."

"Why?", Catherine wondered, as Sofia's cell phone rang.

"Curtis."

A long pause followed that first word, but Catherine didn't mind looking at Sofia's face to understand what it was for. She continued to look at the drawings, horrified by their attention to little details. She thought about the plants growing beside the rocks and the car: she didn't know much about them, but maybe they could give them a clue to where Sara was. Catherine took out her phone as Sofia ended her call.

"They found it."

A surprised Catherine smiled. "The car?"

"No, the towing used... I got to go. Call me if there's anything new."

The blonde rushed out of the room as Catherine tried to calm her breath. She looked at her cell phone, and she used a couple of seconds to remember why she had took it in the first place.

"Hey, it's me. Find me a specialist of the desert flora. Now."

She hung up, her eyes still on the drawings of the red mustang. The CSI erased from her mind the thought of a broken Sara, stuck under a car. Sooner or later, the weight of the vehicule would kill her: they had to find her fast. She imagined the pain her colleague was in before shaking her head. No time to think about those things: she had to focus on the evidence.

**(in the interrogation room)**

Natalie stared at the miror, silent. The police woman at the door remained steady as Davis got up, walking to the looking glass as if she was hypnotised. A few seconds later, Brass entered the room, followed by CSI Brown.

"Would you take a seat, please, Ms Davis?", the CSI asked gently, hoping this would work. If Grissom wasn't able to make her talk about Sara, he couldn't understand why he would try. But someone had to go in with Brass, otherwise the detective could do anything. Knowing Brass, it would probably be something stupid.

The miniature killer looked at them as though they weren't there, but obeyed anyway.

"You know why you are here, Ms Davis?", Brown added, not sure where he wanted to go with his questions. He had prepared for this by reading fastly some infos about Natalie's mental illness, but she was unstable and he couldn't figure out a way to talk to her. No trust could be built: his questionning skills wouldn't be helpful.

"Natalie. I am Natalie.", she whispered, still not looking at them. Instead, she started playing with her hands, as if she was a kid caught by her mother with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Nice to meet you, Natalie. I am Warrick Brown, and this is Jim Brass."

She raised her hand, glared at the two men before turning her attention back to her hands.

"I don't like him.", she stated, obviously talking about Brass. The detective walked to the corner of the room as Warrick sat down.

"Natalie, you haven't answered my question. Do you know why you are here?" The CSI tried to bring the conversation back on track, but he wanted Natalie to talk about Sara first. She seemed to hate when the person talking to her was actually interested in somebody else. He thought if Natalie could start speaking about Sara's abduction, it would be easier for him to get new infos.

"Sara.", she whispered, as if the name could hurt her. Brown decided to try something.

"What Sara?", he asked, hoping the woman woul not understand the trick. Brass took a footstep closer to the table, wondering what game the CSI was playing. He did not want another crisis: they would lose precious time.

"You know who. The girl.", Natalie stated, apparently mad that she was treated like a child. Warrick adjusted his tone.

"The woman from your last miniature. I didn't know she was named Sara.", he said, standing up so that Natalie could not see his eyes. She stopped looking at her hands and raised her head, her eyes following the CSI as he continued to talk.

"Do you know where she is?", he asked. A voice inside him yelled it was too early, but he had to handle the whole conversation. Otherwise he could lose Davis' interest, and the suspect wouldn't talk at all.

"Yes.", the miniature killer replied, aware that the questionning would be mostly about her last work. She closed her eyes, then changed for the voice of a little girl. "It is so dark, and so cold. I didn't know it would be raining. I like the rain."

Warrick looked at Brass, not knowing what to do next. The detective took another step forward.

"Natalie, where is she?", he asked, trying to soften his voice. But Brass' tone was too angry: Davis looked down again.

"I don't want to talk about it.", she said. Warrick was surprised that she wasn't begging: she was acting as if she was free to go, unaware of her situation. Or perfectly aware that until she talked about Sara, she had all cards in her hands.

"I understand, but you are the one who talked about this Sara first...", Warrick added, forcing the woman to look at him again. "We are just being polite."

Natalie's eyes went from the CSI to the detective. "I want him out", she ordered, pointing at Brass. Without a word, the man smiled and left the room, as if Natalie had the right to decide. Warrick felt her gaining assurance, and hoped it would be for the best.

"So how about we talk about that last piece of work?", he asked, sitting in front of Davis. The girl gave him a shy smile. Brown smiled back: maybe his questionning skills weren't so bad after all.

**(in Sofia's car)**

"Curtis.", she answered her cell phone, hoping it would be some good news. Catherine was on the other end of the line.

"- There's a galon of gaz in the car. Greg's trying to find something on this.

- Bad news. Don't you have a good one for me?

- The plants figuring on the miniature can only be found in high places. I am tracing a map of those regions right now.

- Great. Found the towing, it hasn't been rented since Natalie used it. The guy said he rented it with a full tank.

- Mesure the level in the tank. We'll calculate how far she could've gone.

- Done. I'm coming."

The detective closed her cell phone. They were getting closer every minute. She stopped at the red light, closing her eyes. "Hang on Sara, we're coming."

**(in the desert)**

She couldn't stand the darkness anymore. It was too much, she had to do something. She had found, a minute ago, matches in her pocket. It took her time to get them out and to figure out how to use them without dropping them on the ground. The water would make them unusable.

She smiled through the pain: she would finally see. And maybe even get less cold... She had to try.

A/N: Sorry if my english isn't great, I'm still learning.


	4. Matches Perfectly

**Chapter Four**

**Matches Perfectly**

She remembered questionning Kelly Gordon, the way she wanted to beat her down for what her father had done to Nick. The woman said "I hope your friend dies", and she imagined what it would feel like to hit her with all her strength. She thought about how the others were, now that she was the one missing. All she could think of was that Grissom must've been devastated. Her other colleagues, she didn't know.

Apart from Greg's crush on her back then, she didn't notice much interest from the others towards her. It wasn't surprising, since she was rarely accepting close contacts with the people around her. She promised herself to get to know more persons from now on, if she did survive. Breathing was getting harder and harder: it is why she had decided not to light the matches. She needed pure air, otherwise her breaths would be harder to take.

She looked as water began overcoming the sand under her. It had taken a while, but finally the rain had found its way under the car. The cold air was now filled with humidity, as her clothes started to get wet. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the ground.

"Please find me..."

**(in the lab)**

Grissom stared at the mutilated doll on the table. Nothing was inside, but he had forgotten to look inside the pockets. They were, too, empty, except for one. In Sara's vest, he found matches.

"Don't light them baby, please just don't light them..."

The CSI felt like he was going to be sick. The nausea came suddenly, but didn't want to leave. He breathed deeply, but the feeling wouldn't go away. Shots of a burnt Sara kept running through his mind, as he repeated slowly;

"Don't light them baby, please don't light them..."

His tiredness came back: he felt like he was a ninety-year-old man waiting for death to reach him and finally join his mate. Though he wasn't sure Sara was dead, he had never felt so close too losing her. Even when he was staring at her, outside the nurse's station, with Adam Trent's arms around her, ready to kill her any minute, he never thought she could die. He was too close to her, still helpless, but so close... Now Sara was away, and he had no idea how to reach her.

"Griss, you alright?"

Nick's voice bringed Grissom back to the lab. He barely turned his head to see the CSI come in the room. Looking at the matches, the younger man frowned.

"Greg told me there was gas in the car... But Sara's smell it, right?"

The other CSI didn't answer and walked away, needing some time alone. Stokes remained alone with the doll, thinking. He had just brought all he found at Natalie's apartment to Evidence, Trace and DNA, but he knew all of this wouldn't be helpful to find Sara. They were running out of time: the weight of the car, the matches and the gas, the rain that wasn't going to stop... Too much reasons to find Sidle dead. He tried to believe that they would succeed, but each minute passing by made him think otherwise.

"You okay Stokes?"

Sofia came in the room with files and a calculator, and shared a look with Nick.

"What are you doing here?", he asked, unsure if he had to be mad at her for leaving him alone at the scene, or glad that he was finally going to know what she was up to. The blonde woman started to run through her sheets.

"I have to calculate the distance Natalie made with the towing.", she stated, eyes still on the table.

"Natalie had no driving license: how could she know how to manoeuvre a towing?", he asked. Sofia raised her head.

"I don't know, but it seems that she did.", she replied, taking the calculator out. Nick left, coming back a minute later with two cups of coffee. He handed one to the detective, who smiled shortly.

"Thanks, Nicky." She continued to calculate, then turned over to him. "How's Grissom?"

"He's... losing it." The CSI looked over the woman's shoulder. "Finished?"

The blonde detective smiled. "She hasn't went far from Vegas. Sara still has a chance."

**(in the interrogation room)**

"Someone told me you changed the place of the mustang. They found different drawings in your apartment.", Warrick stated, waiting for Natalie to continue. She raised her head.

"It wasn't okay. There weren't... enough space.", she answered, looking at the police officer at the door. "Does she have to be here?"

"Yes.", Warrick replied, as if Natalie's question was as normal as asking for the hour. "Do you know how to drive?"

Natalie's eyes went from the officer to the CSI. She smiled. "I asked my dad to teach me, but he wouldn't."

Warrick stared at her. If she couldn't drive, then how could she have managed to bring Sara to the desert? Moreover, a mustang? He waited a few seconds before asking his other question, trying not to pressure the miniature killer too much. He was too close to discovering something, he couldn't lose her in a crisis now.

"How did you bring the car and Sara to the desert, then?", he asked slowly, trying to sound as casual as he could. The woman looked at the miror, staring directly at herself.

"I cannot tell.", she whispered. Brown stood up.

"I'm going to get myself a coffee. Would you like something?", he asked Natalie. She didn't respond, so he left the room. He sighed: he hated the turns of the conversation, and he couldn't stand being with Davis anymore. The woman didn't seem to understand what was wrong with killing another human being. She got furious each time Warrick mentionned Sara's name, and never answer directly the questions. Brown hoped the rest of the team found something more relevant, otherwise things weren't looking well for Sidle.

**(in the lab)**

"Grissom and Brass went in the helicopters with the police squad. They're going to call if they find something in the zone I defined.", Sofia stated to a silent Catherine. "Are you okay?"

The CSI was still staring at the drawings Natalie made of the desert. She shook her head, and then nodded. Sofia came closer.

"Catherine?", she asked gently, as the other woman's eyes left the sheets to meet her eyes. "What is it?"

"I know this place.", she stated, still thinking about what to do with the information she had just found.

"What?", the blonde replied, surprised. She didn't expect discovering this so fast. She had thought it through, and calculated a couple of hours more. But things were suddenly happening fastly: to her, it wasn't a good sign. She was a pessimist, in times like these. Never wanting to get her hopes up for nothing, she always assumed there was something wrong. When she had been suspected with Brass of having killed an officer during a shooting, she automatically thought it was her fault. It was her way of protecting herself: if it had came out that she was the killer, she wouldn't have been defeated.

As Catherine asked her if she was coming along to go to that location in the desert, Sofia reminded herself to consider the fact that they might not find Sara, or find a dead body. She followed the CSI as they both called the rest of the team to tell them where they were going. It was only after Catherine's car left the parking lot that Sofia bothered asking.

"How do you know that place?", the detective questionned, eyes still on the road.

"Went there once. With a guy who killed her wife, and pretended she had been kidnapped. Weird shift, I tell you.", Catherine answered, the voice filled with anticipation. She couldn't wait to get there, even though she knew it wasn't the place Natalie had represent in the scale model. Catherine assumed there would be a clue about Sara's abduction, or the place she was kept.

When they got outside the car, both women remained silent under the rain. They started looking around, unsure of what to look for, creeped out by the details of the drawings that they could recognize under the flashlights. Sofia climbed up the road, while the CSI searched closer to the car. A minute later, Catherine raised her head at the hearing of Sofia's voice.

"Catherine? Red mustang."

Sofia sent her a look before rushing towards the scene pictured by the miniature killer. The CSI took out her cell phone, running behind the detective.

"Brass? It's Catherine. We found Sara."

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! And my maternal langage is French. And by the way... the fic isn't over yet ;-)


	5. Going Hand In Hand

**Chapter Five**

**Going Hand In Hand**

She thought she heard voices as she was falling unconcious. She forced her eyes open again, but tears came back. She knew that crying only made the pain worse. She breathed as deeply as she could, and started whispering the lyrics she had in her head. She had learn that Nick had done this to calm himself. The voices didn't left, though, and they actually were coming closer and closer. She thought of yelling, but knew her lungs wouldn't let her.

"Sara?"

She moved her arm slowly, trying to make a sign. She wasn't able to gesture as she wanted too, but she heard a positive respond.

"She's here!"

The voice was familiar, but she couldn't understand who it was belonging to. Somebody grabbed her hand. She felt the other's hand moving up and down her arm, and tried to respond by moving again. She whispered a "thank you", but the other didn't seem to hear it.

"She's cold.", the unknown woman stated to someone else. "Sara, do you hear me?"

She understood it was Sofia's voice talking to her, but she was unable to answer. Catherine's voice raised, telling the detective that help would arrive soon. She smiled in the dark, knowing this was about to end soon.

Sofia's hand was still holding hers as she felt something on her arm. It was hot and dry: she smiled at the change of sensation. It made her want to get out of under the car, want to survive. It had been hours since she had stopped hoping to be saved, and then she heard those voices.

"Don't worry, we'll get you out of there, Sara.", Sofia said softly. "Catherine's with me."

Sara smiled, sad at the thought that she could not respond to the women. A third voice rose.

"Hey! Get away from the car!"

Sofia's grip tightened around Sara's hand as the yells became closer and closer.

"GET AWAY FROM THE CAR!"

**(in the interrogation room)**

Natalie stood up, walking to the miror.

"He's gonna get her, you know.", she stated. Warrick's eyes remained on her as she continued. "It's not over. It will never be."

Brown stared at her as she started reciting again. He sighed: after hours of interrogation, he hadn't learned much. His cell phone rang, and he left the room to answer.

"Brown.", he said, hoping this was good news. "What?... I'll call the helicopter squad."

He hung up, smiling. "Sara's okay."

**(in the desert)**

"Sir, this is a crime scene.", Catherine stated, her hand on her gun. The man came closer, rising towards both women his flashlight and a revolver. The CSI lifted her weapon, pointing it at the stranger.

"Put the gun down.", she ordered, but the man didn't obey. Sofia took out her gun, her other hand still holding Sara's.

"This is my car. Leave it alone.", he asked, his gun still pointing at the women. His arm was shivering from the cold and the tension, as the CSI replied.

"Put the gun down, sir, and no one will be hurt.", Catherine ordered again, feeling like her heart was going to explode. She hoped the cops would come there soon, otherwise they would find more than a wrecked car on a dead CSI. She shot a fast look at Sofia, who still remained on the ground. She wanted to yell at her for not standing up beside her, but she knew Sidle would panic under the mustang if nobody was holding her hand. The man took a step forward to them.

"Don't move, sir, and put the gun down.", she asked again, hoping that this time, her serious tone would scare him enough to do what she wanted. He did not, and she felt her gun getting heavier. The possibility of having to shoot at a stranger had rarely crossed her mind, and she did not know if she could handle it. The guilt, after the act, would be too strong.

"Sara, I have to get up now. I swear I'll be back in a minute.", Sofia whispered, feeling Sara's hand tightening around hers. She let go and stood up, pointing her gun at the man. She took a few steps towards the stranger. "Give me your gun or I'll have to fire."

"You go away, bitch!", he yelled, coming closer again. The sound of cars approaching caught Catherine's attention. The gunshots, however, bringed her eyes back on the scene. She saw the stranger fall to the ground, and ran to him to get his gun. After putting it away, she checked his pulse, making sure he would survive. Hearing men voices, she yelled.

"We're here!" She then turned to Sofia. "You should go to them, I'm not sure they heard me."

Curtis remained sitting on the ground next to the car, still holding Sara's hand. Willows smiled at her before leaving towards her car, understanding that the detective wasn't leaving Sidle. She met with officers, Nick and Greg, and showed them to the mustang. The towing approached the scene, along with an ambulance, as the sun started to rise.

"Sofia, you should get away from the car as we get it away.", Nick proposed. The detective got up slowly, holding her stomach. She walked a few footsteps before falling on her knees.

"Are you alright?", Greg asked as he rushed to the blonde woman.

"I'll be fine, just get Sara out of there.", she answered, suddenly aware that the CSI's hand wasn't in hers anymore, even after she had promise not to let go. She forced those thoughts out of her head as she listened to Catherine explaining the events of the night. The paramedics got the injured man inside the ambulance as an officer called for another one. Sofia turned to look as they slowly lifted the wrecked mustang.

"Don't move Sara!", Catherine shouted so her colleague wouldn't do any more damage to her spine. She watched as the paramedics turned her over, putting her in the ambulance. Sofia walked calmly to the vehicule.

"I'm going with her.", she said before getting in beside Sara. Catherine tried to argue, but the paramedics closed the door. She sighed as Greg and Nick's hands rested on her shoulders.

"She's going to be alright, Cath. It's all that matters, right?", Stokes asked gently.

"Well, since we came all the way, might as well process the scene...", Greg proposed. Seeing him with a rain coat made Catherine smile: he looked like a kid. It reminded her that she did not have one on when she left her car. Looking at her wet clothes, she decided to leave the work to her colleagues. She didn't have the right to help, anyway, since she had been involved in the shooting. The CSI walked away as Nick and Greg took out their kits.

"She'll be okay, right?", Greg asked in a low tone, so only Stokes would understand what he was saying. The other man didn't seem to understand what he met, so he continued. "I mean... you weren't lying to Catherine when you said she was okay, right?"

Nick smiled back. "Don't worry Greggo. Now help her out, and collect the guns while I look out for the bullets."

**(in the ambulance)**

Sofia couldn't believe how bad her stomach was hurting. She smiled at Sara, still holding her hand, but her other hand rested on her belly as she fought back the urge to shout. There was some blood, too, that she didn't really mind about. She was going to the hospital anyway, so she was doing the right thing by staying with Sidle. Or at least that's what she was thinking.

The paramedics were keeping an eye on her pressure, making sure she would not move. Apparently her spine had been the most destroyed part of her body; of course the weight of a car could do that to someone. Sofia's eyes met Sara's. She wondered why she had never noticed that the brunette had this look in her eyes, the kind that impresses and calms. She smiled softly.

"It's gonna be alright."

Sofia moved a stray of hair out of Sara's face, then started looking around to find a window. They had to arrive fast, or else all this pain could be for nothing. Sidle had to be alive when they got to the hospital, she just had to. The detective imagined the look on Grissom's face if he learned that his lover was dead: it wouldn't be right. Sofia calmed herself by thinking more positive thoughts. They had found Sara, even though it looked impossible. And they had the miniature killer. Good news.

The blonde felt a dizziness coming back to her head as she noticed they had just entered Vegas. She looked down, only to find her hand bloodier than when the left the desert. Her eyes closed as her hold of Sara's hand went weaker.

And then everything went black.


	6. Question Mark

**Chapter Six**

**Question Mark**

"How many shots were fired?", Vega asked as Catherine ran her hand in her hair. After this interrogation, he knew he had to ask the same questions to Detective Curtis, and then to an unknown man. He had ask the hospital staff to collect every personnal item of the stranger, but nothing could give them a clue about his identity. He sighed, waiting for an answer.

"Two, I think.", the woman said. "No, wait... three."

The detective noted it on his report, and then raised his head again. The CSI in front of him didn't seem to hide something: Curtis was probably innocent. He hoped she had not start the shooting, otherwise she could be penalized. She could even lose her job. Vega hated when a good officer lost his temper, causing him to act stupidly. It was happening too much, these days; he wondered why.

"Do you know who shot first?", he asked, eyes still on the CSI. He knew it almost instinctively when a person was lying and when she wasn't. For now, the woman sitting in front of him had only told the truth, but she could still protect her friend by inventing a part of her story. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Not really, I was disturbed by the arrival of the police officers. But I think it came from my left side.", she answered, eyes on the detective. She paused a few seconds before adding: "It was the man's side, Sofia was at my right."

The officer noted the fact, as he had done with everything Catherine had said before. He hated when he had to work on a case implying people he knew. Even though he wasn't friends with Sofia, he shared a few cases with her, and he liked her. He had been told she was at the hospital: he wished she was alright. Too many dead cops too, these days.

**(in the hospital)**

Grissom almost ran all the way from the car to the hospital. Brass followed him at a lower pace, knowing that it didn't matter if he'd walk or run: they'd still have to wait. Sara wasn't going to be standing up at the entrance, a smile on her face. She wouldn't welcome them: she would be lying on a bed, somewhere, wondering how the hell she'd survive all that. And that was, for Brass, the more positive scenario.

"Where's patient Sara Sidle?", Grissom asked, his eyes threatening to kill if they refused to let him see his lover. The nurse's eyes left him to look at the papers in front of her. After a minute, she raised her head.

"You cannot see her now. She's under protected custody. Plus, the doctors aren't done with her yet.", she answered, knowing she had just displayed too much informations. She hoped that the man would notice it, and become more pleasant. Unfortunately for her, he didn't.

"We're with the Crime Lab. We have to get to her.", he stated, as if he didn't knew Sara. Brass took a step forward, smiling to the nurse as he gently pulled Grissom closer to him.

"Gil, don't do anything stupid.", he said in a lower tone. He raised his voice again to speak to the nurse. "We'll wait here. Please tell us when something comes up. It's important."

The men went to take a seat nearby, both silent. Grissom took a deep breath, staring at the floor. He had to focus: all he wanted to do was run in that hospital to find Sara. But he had to wait, so he obeyed. Brass stood up.

"I'm gonna get two coffees.", he said, starting to walk away. He turned around. "You better be there when I come back."

Grissom didn't answer, knowing that he couldn't move. He hated being told what to do, but he knew his friend was right: searching for Sara wouldn't help. The doctors had to do their jobs, and he had to do his: he had to wait. He smiled at the nurse when she went by, hoping to make up for his earlier behavior. She smiled back. His cell phone rang, almost causing him a heart-attack: he had forgotten there was a world outside of this hospital.

"Grissom.", he answered, hearing in his voice the concern he had for Sara. He wished the other person wouldn't notice it: he hated to share his feelings. His lover kept telling him that he could express them, but he still rarely did. There was this letter he had wrote for Sara, but he hadn't find the strength to send it. He didn't want everybody to know his weakness: a little brunette. As he thought that Natalie had found it, the person on the phone reminded him, again, that there were a world outside. And that it wasn't all cruel.

"Are you okay?", Catherine asked. Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "Warrick and I are on our way to the hospital. We'll meet you there."

She hung up, leaving Grissom alone. He closed his cell phone and his eyes, the events of the night still running in his head. All he could see was the mutilated doll, on the lab's table. And the name on the vest: Sidle.

"Here you go.", Brass said, giving his colleague a cup of coffee. "I met a doctor on my way. Said we'll have a right to see Sara soon."

Gil raised his head. "He did?", he asked, surprised. His friend sat down beside him, smiling while looking at the patients and nurses around them.

"Yeah.", he replied, putting his hand on Grissom's shoulder. "She'll be okay."

**(in Warrick's car)**

"Somebody told me there was a shooting. You okay?", Brown asked to a stunned Willows. Since they had found Sara, she had been working on the cruise control: she didn't think, acting out on what she had been told. Eyes still on the road, she thought about the guns, the GSR test they had run on her hands.

"Someone yelled from the pain.", she stated, obviously talking more to herself than to Warrick. He looked at her shortly: she looked devastated. The tiredness and the past events had suck the life out of her: she needed to rest.

"Who yelled?", he asked softly, not wanting to rush her. The CSI regained her composure, trying to sit straight in her seat. She ran her hand through her hair, a move she'd make only when she was exhausted.

"It was female.", she answered, pausing for a second before continuing. "Sofia."

Brown's eyes left the road to meet Catherine's. He sighed. "Sofia got shot?"

Catherine looked outside, trying to wake herself by blinding her eyes with Vegas' lights. It didn't work, so she ran her hand again through her hand, wondering if she had imagined both the man and the guns, or if it was true. She remembered him coming from nowhere, and she tried to recall if she had seen a car on the scene when Sofia and her arrived. Maybe he had just arrived when he started yelling, or maybe he had just waited until they were far from the road. Either way meant that he was real, and that she had not dreamt the shooting.

"I don't know.", she replied a minute after the question. She stopped looking outside the window to stare at Warrick. "I guess we'll know when we get there."

**(in the hospital)**

Grissom tried to remain calm when a nurse took Brass apart to talk to him. He didn't comment the situation, although they were probably talking about his girlfriend, without him. He stayed on his seat, waiting for his friend to come back, also trying to hear what they were saying.

"We found letters on him. Addressed to a certain Mark. I'm guessing it is his name.", she said in a low voice, knowing that those informations were not supposed to be heard by anyone else. Brass looked briefly at Grissom, hoping to know if he had caught that or not. Unable to find an answer, his eyes came back to the nurse.

"Is he still unconcious?", he asked. He knew it wasn't his case, but he was also used to working with hospitals. If you didn't get to the good person at the good time, you had to wait forever to have infos on your victim. He had decided to collect the informations for Vega, and tell him everything when he would arrive.

"Yes. He was shot twice.", she answered. "They recovered the bullets for you."

She whispered a few more words to Brass before leaving. He came back to Grissom, who looked down at the floor. The detective finished his coffee and then throwed his cup in the waste backet beside them. He then turned towards Grissom.

"Alright, what have you heard?", he asked. His friend raised his head.

"Who's Mark?", replied Grissom, hating to be kept in the dark. He waited a few seconds for an answer. Knowing he would find out anyway, Brass explained.

"There was a shooting at the scene. The guy threatened Sofia and Catherine." He paused, seeing Warrick and Catherine walking towards them. "Vega is working the case."

The two CSI smiled shortly when they arrived, glad to find them so easily. The four of them remained silent for a minute, all wondering if they could see Sara now. A doctor came by, asking for Detective Brass. He stood up.

"It's me.", he answered, waiting for the doctor to continue.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'd like to know if we may see Sara...?", Warrick asked. The doctor turned his attention to the CSI, unsure of what to say. He didn't have the right to give personal informations on the patient to people who weren't from the family, yet the patient had told him she had no family.

"Ms Sidle is concious. She said I could talk to a Sofia Curtis or to a Gilbert Grissom... She said they would both be here.", the doctor answered. At Sofia's name, the CSI's looked down. Only Grissom raised his head and his voice.

"I am Gil Grissom. How is she?", he asked, concern filling his voice.

"She's going to be okay but...", the doctor paused for a second, searching for his words.

"Can we see her?", Warrick asked again, getting frustrated by the slow pace of the conversation. He had to see Sara: just hearing she was alright wasn't enough for him. The young doctor looked at him.

"She has some unexplained nauseas. We think Ms Sidle has been infected with something.", the doctor stated. He paused for a few seconds to make sure they understood what he was saying, then he continued. "She could be infectious right now. Nobody's allowed."


	7. Alone and Stuck

**Chapter Seven**

**Alone and Stuck**

_You must try to understand _

_Like a bug in the sand _

_Like a frog on its back _

_Like a prisonner peeping through a crack_

Sofia opened her eyes and closed them fastly, the lights blinding her. She forced herself to open them again, trying to figure out what she was doing there. She heard a man's voice beside her, and tried to lift her head to see who it was.

"Woa, easy there...", Warrick said softly, coming closer to her. "How you feeling?"

The blonde rested her head on the pillow, thinking. She smiled back at the CSI before answering. "Never felt that good in my whole life." Her answer forced a smile on Warrick's face as he sat beside her.

"Three days without eating can't be good, you know?", he asked, concerned. He hadn't notice before how pale she was. Brown looked at the door as Catherine came in with their coffees. She walked to the other side of the bed.

"Hey Sleeping Beauty.", she said, smiling. She turned to Warrick: "I didn't know you were a Prince."

"I didn't know either.", he replied, taking a sip of his coffee. "But my charms still work."

Silence overcame the room as Sofia tried to sit in her bed. She wasn't in pain, except for her stomach who still felt like it was burning.

"The bullet went through, only cutting skin on its way." Catherine explained as the blonde stared at her, not remembering what happened. "You have great instincts."

Sofia smiled softly. "How's Sara?", she asked. Brown and Willows looked at each other, unsure of what to tell Curtis. The blonde woman straightened in her bed. "She's alright?"

"Yeah.", Catherine replied. "She's got dengue. It's a rare infection... Kinda like a huge fever."

Warrick took a step forward, putting his hand on Sofia's shoulder. "She's going to make it, don't worry."

The detective looked at the CSIs, who seemed tired. For a second she wondered where was Grissom, but she figured he should be with Sara. She was happy waking up with two colleagues, although she would've like more. It only reminded her how she had no contacts out of her work. She forced a smile on her face as she looked at the room. White walls, white floors. She thought paradise would look like this, and maybe even smell like bleach. She didn't want to go there yet.

_I am stuck in a rock_

_And neither wants could cut_

_A song without a groove_

_I'm so rusty I can barely move_

**(in Sara's room)**

_There's a song in my head_

_But I'm glued to this bed_

_I am lost in myself_

_Fighting dust on a shelf_

Alone in her room, Sara sighed. When she closed her eyes, she felt the pressure of the car, the pain in her back, the cold rain. It replayed in her head over and over, like a borken disc. She heard the voice, too. This harsh "Sara", her name said with so much disgust. Each time she thought about it, it became worse until it wasn't human anymore. It was almost a laugh, a drunken "Sara" laugh. Then it was her father's voice yelling Sara as he was passing out on the couch. The sound became the shout of a huge world crying out "Sara" as if she had done something wrong. She shivered: she had to stop thinking about that voice.

She looked at the walls around her, as she waited for the nurses to come back. Her whole body was stuck in bandages, too many broken bones. She felt broken on the inside as well: she couldn't understand why she had been abducted, why she was left in the desert. Something of hers was still there, she could feel it. She couldn't wait to stand up and run to it. But for now, she was kept in an hospital bed, alone.

The room suddenly felt as cold as the rain. She wished someone would come in, anyone. A nurse, maybe. Just so she wouldn't be left with her thoughts, stuck inside this bed with the voice and the rain. She whispered the name of her lover, but he didn't come. She knew he had no right: she was infectious, and until they learned where she had gotten the dengue, she had to remain alone. Only doctors and nurses allowed.

_I am clutching to a tree_

_In the middle of the sea_

"Be strong, Sara. You're alone now.", she heard her mother telling her. She thought of the last glimpse she had of her mother before she was taken away by the social services. The hospital room smelled like lies, just like the mental institution her mom was in. "Be strong, Sara. You're alone now."

She raised her head and looked at the door, praying for it to bust open. It didn't. She closed her eyes again.

The cold, sand, noises, smells, pressure, car, wrecked bones... The telephone woke her up. She used her right arm, the only member of her that wasn't broken, to pick it up. Suddenly, she felt stupid, not knowing what to say.

"They say I cannot come in, but I can still talk to you, right?", Grissom's voice came through the phone directly to her soul. She smiled.

"Of course you can.", she replied, her voice still broken. She coughed from the effort, but was glad to finally speak with someone.

"How are you feeling?", he asked. She noticed the anxiety in his voice, and got sadden by the thought that she could not comfort him. She wasn't feeling well, actually: her whole body didn't respond to her orders, she kept coughing and having bad dreams... Nothing was fine. All she wanted was to go home.

"Not bad.", she lied, unable to tell him the truth.

"I... I'll have to go back to the lab. I'll see you soon, Sara." She felt concern in his voice, and fought back her want to yell at him. "I promise."

He hung up, and she felt even more desesperate. She stop the urge for crying and closed her eyes again. She hoped for good dreams, ones that didn't involve pain and darkness.

_If only I could swim_

_Feel my chances on me_

Pretty slave 

She woke up with someone holding her hand. She smiled before opening her eyes: he was here. She took a deep breath to force the nightmares out of her as the hand let go. She raised her head and tried to control her surprise. On the chair next to her bed, Sofia was staring at her.

"Hey... Sorry I woke you up.", she said in a soft voice, suddenly feeling uninvited. "Grissom asked me to check on you... He's on his way."

Sidle smiled as a greeting. Her instincts told her to sit in her bed, but the bandages didn't let her. She gave up, only glad that she wasn't alone.

"How come you're here?", she asked. She felt guilty of talking so harshly, she didn't know where to start. She sent the detective a smile to make up for her unfriendly tone, and waited for an answer.

"You're not infectious. You got the dengue intraveiniously.", she replied before getting up.

"Where are you going?", Sara asked. It sounded like begging, and she disliked that. But she had been alone for so many hours in the desert, and then here... She couldn't stand her thoughts anymore, her nightmares and the darkness stuck under the bandages.

"Grissom's here.", she pointed, before walking to the door. The man came closer to the bed as Sofia turned herself. "I'll come back later."

Sara smiled as Grissom's lips met hers. She closed her eyes, letting the feeling of safety and comfort overcome her. Her lover's hand rested on the side of her face, as if he hadn't seen her for years. She felt like a masterpiece when he looked at her, even if she was now broken.

"Don't ever leave me like this, you hear me?", his voice ran its way to her ear as she fought back another tear. "I love you, Sara."

**(in Mark's room)**

"What were you going, armed, in the desert?", Vega asked the stranger who shot Sofia. The man didn't answer as the detective continued. "You're going to be arrested, you know? Tell me everything now, and it'll be simpler for both of us."

Mark looked at the police officer in front of him, and a smile crossed his face. He closed his eyes for a second, then stared at his hands, who had just been tested positive for gun-shot residue.

"It's never over.", he whispered before falling into unconciousness. His heartbeats became crazy as the nurses rushed into the hospital room. Vega walked out, trying to avoid being in their way. He stared as the stranger fought his way back into life.

A/N: I felt like writing a different kind of chapter for this one. The rest of the story should go without songs ;-)


	8. Dance, My Love

**Chapter Eight**

**Dance, My Love**

She looked at the window, waiting for Grissom to come back. He had left to shower and had promised to come as soon as possible. Four hours ago. But she wasn't counting.

She had freaked when the others had explained her abduction. Miniature killer, scale model of her death, Grissom doing an autopsy of the Sara doll... She felt a shiver running through her spine, but it never reached her head. It got lost it the way, somewhere in her stomach. She thought it meant she was stronger than the memories, that she could win over them. She just had to take her time, and breathe deeply.

Detective Vega walked in, a smile on his face. She welcomed him as possible: with a smile and a soft "hello" that didn't seem to belong to her. That part of her, that she had forgotten under the car – the red mustang, they said – was probably bigger than she had first thought.

"I know this will be hard on you, Sara, but...", the detective said, sitting beside the bed. Sidle only pictured Grissom on that chair, and the sight of another man taking his place made her angry. She canalised the energy to calm herself and to power through the story. She interrupted him, suddenly feeling that she wanted to be alone with her ideas of Grissom.

"It's okay. I don't remember much, but I'll tell you...", she said, eyes still at the window. "I walked to the car, heard a female voice. She said my name. I turned to look where it was coming from, and somebody grabbed me from behind."

She closed her eyes, the feelings of that night rushing through her veins to get to her brain. She felt the hand on her mouth as she tried to scream, her whole body yelling – get your gun, now! – as she fought to get out of the stranger's arms. Her heartbeats going crazy as she begged in her head – please God don't let this be a rapist, kill me now – and the struggle for her life, that felt like an hour even though it probably last a minute – I don't want to die.

"The woman... she pricked me with a syringe and then the man brought me to a car.", she continued, as tears came up in her eyes. She breathed deeply, not wanting her feelings to overcome her while she was with a detective she barely knew. She paused for a few seconds before going on with her story.

"The car... it was black. A black Chevrolet. I didn't notice anything else.", she stated, looking at Vega while he noted everything she was saying. She sighed. "I should've looked better."

She didn't listen as the detective assured her everything she was saying was helpful. She had heard that line too often, and she had told it a thousand times too. It didn't matter if it helped or not: she wished she had looked better so her dreams wouldn't try to fill the gaps by replaying all over again the same scene.

"The man was driving. I didn't see his face, I can't tell you much about him. He was about 6'0 high. It's all I know about him.", she said, closing her eyes to remember the caracteristics of her abducter. "The woman I can identify, though."

Vega thanked her again, but she still wasn't listening. She thought about Grissom, about the way the detective was taking over her images of her lover sitting beside her. Now when she would look at the chair, she would only remember this conversation, and not the ones with Gil.

"The woman forced me to take a pill, I don't know what it was.", she said, suddenly remembering the hand on her neck and the swallowing. She turned her head to look at the entrance of the room.

"They found traces of GHB in your blood.", the detective explained, hoping it would help Sara's understanding of the events. The brunette turned again to look at him, with empty eyes.

"I don't remember anything after that."

**(at Natalie's apartment)**

"Man I'm telling you, I searched everywhere.", Nick stated, looking at the apartment he had been processing. "It's not here."

Warrick took a step forward, looking at the dolls at the entrance. "This is creepy", he said, his eyes still processing the apartment. He entered the room where Natalie worked her miniatures, Nick behind him. Brown walked towards the table, trying to picture the miniature killer living here, in this weird world of dolls and scale models. He sighed.

"We have to look anyway.", he said, knowing the other man would be mad anyway. Going through the apartment a second, even a third time, seemed like saying he had done a bad job. It wasn't what it meant, and Warrick knew it. When Nick had processed the apartment, he never looked for a syringe: there was no reason to. But now that they had learn Sara had been infected, they had to search again.

"Maybe she threw it away.", Nick supposed, looking at the bed. As he deposit his kit on the floor, he smiled. "Do you think serial killers have a sex life?", he asked, turning himself to look at Warrick. Brown had already left the room to take a look at the bathroom. Stokes turned again, walked towards the bed. "Let's find out."

A few minutes later, Warrick entered the room, surprised to find Nick bagging the sheets of the bed. He took a step forward, smiling.

"What you doing Nicky?", he asked, unsure of what to think.

"Presence of semen in her bed.", Stokes replied, a grin on his face. He always had that look when he found something interesting, especially if it meant that the evidence could help the case a lot. The guy that had shot Sofia, Mark, was still unconcious at the hospital. Apart from the letters in his pocket, they had no evidence to link Natalie and him. Having his DNA in her sheets would probably lead to accusing him of the abduction along with Davis.

Warrick smiled. "No syringe, but a great surprise anyway."

**(at the interrogation room)**

Brass was already sitting at the table when Natalie arrived, along with two police officers. The woman sat in front of him, avoiding his eyes. She started biting her lip, which brought a smile to the detective's face: a sign of nervousness always made his day.

"You want to tell me 'bout your friend Mark?", he asked roughly. He was convinced that the woman was only playing with them and faking her delusions. The miniature killer raised her head, wondering how they had learn about Mark's existence.

"He's a friend.", she said simply, her eyes meeting the floor again. The detective stared at her for a few seconds, and then stood up.

"A friend who was nice enough to help you in your attempt of killing CSI Sara Sidle?", he questionned, his voice filled with anger. Natalie kept looking down, her hair falling in front of her eyes.

"He's a friend.", she repeated, as if it answered the question. Brass walked towards her, a threatening look in his face. She felt his presence behind her, but remained steady. After a short pause, the man talked.

"Now listen to me you freak.", his usually calm voice turning into anger. "I don't care how many gallons of bleach I'd have to pour on you to know the truth."

Natalie started to shiver, closing her eyes she whispered a poem, taking short pauses to breathe. The detective looked at her, feeling the frustration reach his brain.

"Recite all you want. You're not getting away with this."

**(in Sara's room)**

Grissom's hand holding hers always felt like home to her. Even though it smelled like bleach and sickness, Sara enjoyed being there. Of course she would prefer being at their apartment, watching TV with their huge dog, but being with Grissom was exactly like it: calming and reassuring. She smiled back at him and then took a look at her body, still stuck in bandages.

"I can't wait to get out of here.", she said, feeling like a prisoner. Being unable to move, all day long, with an unstoppable pain, seemed like hell to her. Of course the other CSIs visited her, which made her better, but she needed to move. To walk. Even the books, who were her best friends, didn't felt as great as before.

"What will you do, when you can?", he asked, his soft voice filling the room with interest. Grissom had this magical tone, when he talked to her, that always made her feel special. Even when they weren't a couple yet, and even when they met, he had this power over her. With anybody else, it would scare her. With him, it seemed right.

"I'll dance.", she stated, her eyes still on the bandages. When she looked back at her lover, she noticed he was surprised. She smiled softly: she liked it when he had this childish face. It made him more human, more comprehensive.

"You hate to dance.", he replied. She knew he was right, but since she hadn't move for so long, she felt an urge to fill the space with her body, to get the energies that were stuck in her completely out. She had to dance.

"I'll dance anyway.", she said, the smile still on her face. It widen when she heard her lover's response.

"Then I shall dance with you.", he proposed. She was about to answer when the doctor came in the room. Grissom greated him as Sara reconnected herself with the rest of the world. She always found herself lost somewhere inside her, when she was with Gil. It wasn't a bad exclusion: it was a freeing one. A feeling that they shared something deeper than the words they were sharing.

"I... have bad news, Ms Sidle.", the young doctor said. He took a glimpse at the papers he was holding, and then at the two persons in front of him, who waited to know what he was going to say. He cleared his throat, closed the door and took a step towards the bed. The brunette seemed all ears.

"The damage to your spine is too big.", he started. He hated to bring the bad news to the clients, but it was part of his job too. In times like these, he usually tried to figure himself bringing a newborn baby to his mother: it always made him in peace with his job. This time, it wasn't working much: he had spend the last hour bringing bad news. This one, though, was his last. He took a deep breath. "You see, Ms Sidle... The reason why you aren't feeling your legs or your feet is that you are paralysed from the waist down."

The doctor paused a second, looking at the others expressions. Even though he wasn't announcing the death of someone, he knew this was hard to swallow.

"Frankly, I don't think you'll ever be able to walk again."

A/N: Thanks, GreysAddict21! I'm doing my best at avoiding errors like that, but I'll try harder ;-)


	9. Human Wheels

**Chapter Nine**

**Human Wheels**

She stared at the wall in front of her bed, trying not to think. The doctor's words echoed in her head as she tried to convince herself that she didn't have to walk to enjoy her life. Beside her, Sofia remained silent: she had just learn about Sara's handicap, and had decide to come for a visit. Grissom had to go back at the lab, and she knew that Sidle probably still didn't want to be alone, even after having such bad news. The detective sighed.

"I've seen this woman on tv once; she was a professional dancer, and she was in a wheelchair.", she said softly. The brunette stared at her as if she was speaking another langage. Sofia maintained the look, knowing that she couldn't let Sara win this time. They have had some frictions in the past: the blonde always had some with her female colleagues. She didn't really know why, but she had learn to accept it. But now that she knew she could become friends with Sara, that she had a chance to get to know her, she wouldn't waste it. She had to act like a friend, in order to become one. And a friend never let go.

"Forget about the dance thing... What will I do?", the CSI replied, almost as a dare. The detective looked at the woman in the bed. She had never seen Sara so devastated. The brunette always acted like a fighter: she never abandonned a case, and always did her best. Now she was laying in an hospital bed, and there was nothing for her to fight: she had to accept what was coming.

"Well I think you got the diplomas and the experience to be a CSI...", Sofia said with a serious voice that got her another death look.

"Very funny. You know I won't be able to do my job anymore.", Sara stated, her eyes suddenly leaving Sofia to meet the white wall. The detective looked down, unsure of what to say. She had never been a great talker. It was easy for her to talk about her job or to joke about most anything, but to have a conversation about what really mattered, she couldn't handle. Yet there she was, in Sara's room, trying to cheer her up. She blamed herself for being so pathetically in need for a friendship. A stupid, meaningless, friendship.

"You can. You're a great CSI.", Sofia said, hoping that Sara would look at her again. When the brunette's eyes met hers, she smiled softly. A smile that meant "I'm an idiot, but please like me anyway". The CSI stared at the detective, wondering why she was still in the room. She and Sofia had never been close, and suddenly, she was always there for her. Holding her hand, making jokes, hanging around when Grissom wasn't there. Of course, the fact that she was also hospitalised had explain the first visits. But the blonde had been released from here two days ago, and she was still there. Sara erased those thoughts from her mind as she remembered what they were talking about. Work. Her one priority.

"I'll be in a wheelchair, Sofia!", she said, almost yelling. She had always put all her efforts on her work, and now, she knew she couldn't do it anymore. She thought about getting drunk, and then remembered it wasn't the way. The next morning, she would still be unable to walk. The wheelchair would welcome her when she'd wake up. Handicaped. What would she do, now? Paperwork? She hated it. She closed her eyes, feeling tears rushing to her eyes.

"If that woman can dance, you can process.", Sofia whispered, suddenly raising from the chair. She came closer to the bed, and rested her hand on Sara's head. "Sara, you're alive. Don't you know what that means?"

The brunette opened her eyes to meet Sofia's. She remembered how glad she was when they found her alive under the car, how happy she was that she could still see Grissom and that the darkness in which she was trapped didn't mean the end. The blonde smiled.

"It means everything is still possible.", Sofia said calmly. She then raised her voice: "Sara Sidle, first CSI to work in a wheelchair. Our heroin on wheels."

Sara smiled back. "Sounds like a TV show."

**(in the lab)**

Greg almost danced his way to the DNA lab, since he had just been paged his results were in. He said hi to everybody passing by, even those he did not know: his happiness, even though some found it annoying, needed to be expressed. He had been scared that they wouldn't find Sara, and there she was, alive and well. He couldn't wait to get off shift to go visit her: he would be the last one to go. Catherine and Warrick had seen her two days ago, while Grissom almost lived at the hospital. Greg, though, hadn't been lucky: every time he got out of work, something kept him from going to meet the brunette. He did not matter, though: as long as she was alive, he'd keep dancing in the hallways.

He pushed the door to the DNA lab, suddenly feeling like home. He always loved to come back there: it reminded him how hard he had work to become a CSI. And there he was, waiting for his results.

"You do know you are smiling like an idiot, right?", the tech asked. Greg gave him a bigger smile.

"I don't care.", he said. He grabbed the sheet that was coming out of the printer. The tech stared at him, frustrated.

"That's mine.", he stated, but the CSI didn't give it back to him. He read it fastly, as if the other was going to take it away. After a few seconds, he handed the sheet.

"You're right, it's not mine.", Greg replied. "Can I have my results now?"

Greg had brought the semen sample from Natalie's bed to compare it to Mark's. It was the only thing the team needed to close the case: another reason to be happy. The CSI waited patiently as the lab tech searched for his results. After a few seconds, he received the sheet.

"Thank you very much..", he said, mocking the other's tone. His eyes read the paper twice before looking up. "You double-checked, right?"

"I did. It's not a match.", the lab tech answered, going back to his work. Greg stared at the results, unsure of what to do next. His smile left his face as he walked to Catherine's office, knowing they still had a lot of work to do. As he knocked on the door, Greg forced the smile to come back. As long as Sara was okay, he still could be happy.

**(in Mark's room)**

Detective Vega sat beside Mark's bed, ready to start the interrogation all over again. The patient's condition was now stable: he had been assured by the nurses that it wouldn't happen again. He raised his head, staring at the silent man beside him.

"What's your name, sir?", he asked, trying to start his interrogation more slowly. The stranger looked at him for a few seconds before answering.

"Mark. Mark Leblanc.", he replied in a low voice.

"Do you know Natalie Davis?", the detective questionned, his eyes not leaving the other man's face. He knew how to recognize a liar, and he knew this one was probably hiding a lot of things. He hoped he could bring him to talk about his relationship with the miniature killer, and then force the informations out of him by the fear of going to jail.

"She's my friend. Natalie is a friend. Do you know her?", he said, turning his head to look at the detective beside him. He didn't wait long enough for an answer, and continued: "She's great, amazing, really. She's an artist."

"Have you helped her with her recent... work?", the detective asked, more and more worried about the mental condition of his suspect. Of course he never thought the guy would be totally sane, but it seemed that the man wasn't connected with reality.

"Oh... yes, I did. Is that why you are here? Because Natalie told me to watch the car, and I didn't. I feel asleep.", he replied, as if there were no crime. "I hope she's not mad. She's my friend, you know?"

Vega sighed. He probably wouldn't learn much from the man, but he still had to try. "So you were in the desert to watch the car?"

"Bring the towing and the car. Wait for us. Ride the towing back to Vegas, come back in the car. Protect the mustang.", Mark answered fastly, as if he was repeating someone else's words. "It's not over yet."

"What isn't over, Mark?", Vega asked. The man remained silent for a minute before starting to sing.

"_A little bisque doll and a little rag doll _

_And a dolly imported from France_

_Were sitting one day on the shelf of the store..._"

**(in the lab)**

Grissom, Catherine, Warrick, Greg and Nick looked at the scale model of Sara's abduction. The red car seemed to be mocking them, as they all thought that they had miss something. Something big. Greg still had the DNA results in hand, while the others stared at the mustang in silence. Finally, Catherine's voice rang in the room.

"If Mark was driving the towing, and Natalie was holding Sara..." She paused, raising her head to look at the other CSIs. "Who was driving the car?"


	10. Unknown

**Chapter Ten**

**Unknown**

She tried to process her memory as if it was a crime scene. After looking around, she started lifting the prints on the abduction videos in her head. She found hers, and then the detective's, but no one else. She sighed: there had to be something in there. She had recreate the scene a dozen times in her head, trying to move the cameras around to see the man's face, but it was useless. She felt the man wasn't even real anymore: it was a shadow that couldn't be revealed.

She thought about the ride in the car, still felt Natalie's hands on her as she was falling, unconcious. She tried to look at the driver, but she could only see his right hand. She raised her head to see him in the miror, but Natalie brought her down. Dizziness overcame all her thoughts after that. Even in her nightmares, her brain had been unable to identify the man. He was always tall, and strong, but still faceless.

"I can't. I'm sorry.", she repeated for the fifth time. She knew the detective needed more than that, but even if he had shown her pictures of the stranger, she probably wouldn't recognize him. Her memory couldn't help them: they had to look somewhere else. Yet Vega continued to remind her that if she thought about anything, she had to call right away. She smiled at him, hoping he would go away, but he wasn't.

As he asked questions about her abduction, she thought about the black fibers they had found on her clothes. It didn't come from a transfer with Natalie: her clothes had been rolled out. It meant that they still had something to tie the stranger with her. She liked the thought that her memory wouldn't be the only evidence in cause. Because she felt like it could betray her anytime now, pretending that she had seen his face when she knew she didn't. If only Vega could go, she could think about something else, and stop searching for an unknown man in her head.

"Yes, I'll call you.", she replied to the detective, aware that she wouldn't. She had nothing more to say, and even if she knew she wasn't helpful, she couldn't do much. Stuck in the bed, she had thought about the case a million times, and still couldn't come up with anything. Just the fact that the miniature killer wasn't alone was too much for her. When she had been working on the case with Grissom, they had always assumed she didn't have anybody to help her. Even though it had been proven that she had worked her first scale models with Ernie Dell, she still had the profile of a solo serial killer. Mark and the stranger felt like a joke to her, even though in her nightmares, she always found out they were very real.

**(in the lab)**

Grissom looked at the other CSIs around the table. Everyone was working on Sara's case along with the usual work. Even though they all looked tired, almost exhausted, none of them agreed with leaving the case. The five investigators had decided to end it as soon as possible, all hoping it would be over when Sara would come back. Of course, the five persons didn't know officially if Sidle was taking her job back when she would leave the hospital, but they couldn't imagine the crime lab without her.

"What did you find?", Grissom asked Greg. The young CSI sighed, opening the files in front of him. The meeting had just started, but they all knew what it wouldn't change the orientation of the case: no discovery had been done recently.

"Nothing. I checked with the towing company: it's Mark on the surveillance tapes, his signature and his phone number on the bill.", he stated, his eyes trying to read the expressions of the others' faces. He closed his files, waiting for somebody to ask him something or to add what they had found. After a few seconds, Nick spoke up.

"Sofia checked for cameras at Natalie's. There were none, not even close to the building.", the CSI declared, even though they all knew there wouldn't be surveillance cameras around a place so poor. When there was nothing to save from theives, or when the theives lived there, nobody lost their money on protection.

"Maybe we could... search Mark's apartment. Something has to link him with that man.", Warrick said, wondering what was going on between Mark and Natalie if they weren't lovers. He never believed third wheels were just randomly present: something had to link all three persons. You wouldn't start a serial killing job with anybody.

"I hate stating the obvious but... this guy's a ghost.", Catherine answered, her eyes running from Grissom to Warrick. "I don't think we'll find something at Mark's."

The looks on the men's faces proved her that she had killed most of their hopes. She sighed, holding on to her pen. Even if they found his identity, the man had all the time he wanted to erase all proves of his existence and run away. He would be impossible to retrace: it had been weeks since Sara's abduction. He could be anywhere. She looked up, meeting Greg's eyes.

"We can still try."

**(in the interrogation room)**

"Are you with somebody, Natalie?", Brass asked, trying to be nicer than the ulterior session. It hadn't help when he had yelled, so he went back to Warrick's techniques; convincing her that they were just having a nice little conversation. The woman's hair were hiding her face, forcing him to repeat the question to make sure she had understood. She raised her head.

"It is my private life.", she answered calmly, as if she was having a job interview rather than an interrogation. The presence of the armed police officers didn't seem to bother her anymore. Each time she was taken out of jail to meet a psychiatrist or a detective, she was followed by two of them. At first, the sight of the guns made her feel threatened. Now, it seemed normal.

"I know, but you can tell me anyway.", Brass suggested, hoping she would go on acting like a normal human being. The first two weeks of her incarceration, she would start singing "The Little Bisque Doll" everytime she was talking with him or with the shrink they had got her. Lately she had started having conversations with the guards of her cell and had accepted meeting the psychiatrist thrice a week. It wasn't much, but it was a big start.

"I met someone. A guy.", she replied, bringing her face down again. Brass smiled as she continued. "He's nice. He says he gets me. He says he loves me."

The detective waited a few seconds before asking his question. "Where have you met?"

Natalie stood up, started walking around the table. Brass hated when she did this, because he couldn't look at her facial expressions when she was acting like that. He didn't say a word, though. Once, he had tried to stop her, which only turned into a huge crisis. She kept screaming as if he was torturing her, while he yelled for her to stop.

Davis had been declared unable to have a trial, because of her mental issues. She would be locked up forever in a mental institution, out of the state, as soon as Sara's case would be closed. For now, she was detained near Las Vegas, so she could be interrogated anytime. Although sometimes she did not seem to understand her situation, today, she looked like she knew what the questions were about. When she had that certitude, she always walked around the table, as if it gave her strength to answer without giving pertinent informations.

"I didn't like his job so he quit. He said it would be better that way.", she said, standing behind Brass as if the roles were reversed. The detective frowned as he waited for her to continue. He had found out that asking questions weren't the best thing to do: Natalie always broke the silence to talk about her when she knew somebody was listening.

"He said I was perfect.", she stated before walking towards the miror. She looked at herself, her hand reaching for her hair. As she stared at herself, she whispered with a bitter voice.

"Perfect..."

**(in an apartment)**

He looked outside. From his apartment, the strangers walking down the street seemed like ants, small creatures with no objectives. He had one, now. He remembered when he had met her: she had control over everything. She could describe the world around her as no one else could: she had the power to understand the system behind everybody's acts. She stared at him once, and he had known that she was perfect.

She had smiled, that day, as if she had recognized something in him. Something she was looking for. He had been searching for himself for so long, only to find out that what was missing from his life was her. Natalie.

Since her, he had become a better human being. He could understand life and its ways, and he could control the world around him. He had became this part of a greater plan, a greater story, in which he was working with a genious. An artist. He had found purpose in her scale models, her attempts at showing the world how things worked. Nobody could understand her, she was too brilliant. But he could. When she showed him the miniatures, everything found its place in his head.

Now he knew that she was right: everything she said would happen had been done. Even though it hurted him to know that she was kept in jail, he understood it was meant to be. The system, the society, couldn't let a human wreck its way of working: they were trying to stop them because they were a threat. A threat to the ants.

He smiled: he had a plan. And everything would be as it was supposed to.

A/N: Sorry it took me a while!


	11. Visit Hours

**Chapter Eleven**

**Visit Hours**

She felt like an idiot, and yet it was great to leave her room. The wheelchair rarely obeyed to her moves and she found herself stuck in obstacles a couple of times, but she liked it. Finally, her world seemed to be bigger than the four white walls of her hospital room. The doctors have asked that she remained in there, but she didn't want to listen to them. She had to get out.

She didn't go outside yet, even though she wanted to. Grissom had said it was okay for her to roll around in the hospital, but he wanted her to avoid the cold air. After her sickness, he had been scared that she wouldn't recover. She had been coughing for weeks, and she just started being alright. She understood her fear, although she knew how hard it would be to respect her words. She sighed as she hit someone with her wheelchair. Raising her head, she smiled.

"I knew you were hitting on me, Sidle.", Greg said happily. He offered to push her to her room, but she refused. After two minutes fighting her way back to her bed, Sara asked for help to return in it. Sanders agreed, glad to be helpful. He rarely visited her, but each time felt like a gift for both of them. He would talk about his cases and she would laugh at his jokes, even the boring ones. For Sara, Greg was her only link to the job.

Of course Grissom talked about the lab too, but it wasn't the same. He'd be more analytic, describe the evidences and the scenes. Greg would joke and laugh, talking about the suspects as if they were all a caricature of the world. Sara loved that about him: the way he could make any story hilarious. She needed to laugh, to forget how she hated her new life. She knew she would eventually grow out of it, but it made her sick. It reminded her of her old friend, Melissa, and the way she had accepted her handicap. She hoped she could be strong like that, even if Melissa believed it was her punishment for killing her abusive husband.

"So the drunk guy shot his TV, and in a desesperate attempt to fix it, he electrocuted himself.", Greg finished his story, smiling. Sara responded with a smile. "Who sent you those?", he asked, pointing the flowers that were blooming beside her bed.

"Doc. Robbins. I called him because I didn't quite understand... what was wrong with my spine. He came yesterday, with his wife.", she said, her eyes still on the wheelchair. She wondered if she could ever be strong enough to use it everyday. After an hour, her arms ached and she had to stop. Sara felt she would never be as free as she had been before.

"You know... I miss not seeing you every night.", Greg said after a short silence. He locked eyes with the brunette, hoping she would understand what he meant. He wasn't the same guy who had a crush on her: he missed his friend. Sara almost lived at the lab: she was always around. Without her, the walls seemed empty.

"I miss working.", she replied softly. "The days are long, here.", she added, looking at the room in which she had been living for the last weeks. The doctors have told her that she could move out in a couple of days, and she looked forward to it. She couldn't wait.

**(in the lab)**

Nick walked in Grissom's office with a few files in his hand. He gave them to his boss, knowing Gil would give them back in a couple of minutes. He didn't know why he was still always showing his work to Grissom: he knew his boss trusted him. Somehow, Nick always felt like he had something to prove in the lab, and even though everyday he was doing his best, it never seemed enough for him.

"What's this?", Grissom asked after taking a glimpse at the lists of names.

"I made a list of everybody who had worked with Natalie in the past nine months.", Nick replied, aware that his boss was the one who had asked him to make that list. Grissom nodded, while Stokes took back his files.

"Found anything interesting?", Grissom questionned. Nick looked at his papers, then raised his head to answer.

"I compared it to a list of everybody I could link to the murders. A few names came up, but one in particular.", he replied, a smile on his face. Grissom's eyes were locked on him, waiting to know what Stokes had discovered.

"Henri Briney", Nick continued, the smile getting wider as Grissom took his glasses of his face. Stokes loved it when he could prove his boss that he was great at what he was doing. He waited a few seconds before continuing his speech, appreciating the expectation in the other man's face.

"I compared Penny Garden's DNA with the unknown male sample we collected from Natalie's bed.", Nick declared, knowing that it would surprise Grissom. He rarely took initiatives like this one, especially since almost nothing linked Henri to Natalie. Apart the fact that they had both worked in the janitorial service of the same company, nothing was pointing towards the idea that they had a relationship.

"The DNA is definitely family-related.", Nick said, a huge smile on his face. He was the one who had cracked open the case, the CSI who had found out the truth. Even though only having his semen in Natalie's bed didn't make him a murderer, Nick knew that there would've been no way for him to enter Davis' apartment and not understand what she was up to. Especially since he had found the miniature of his aunt's death, and brought it to the Crime Lab.

Grissom stood up and walked out of his office. Nick followed, waiting to know what he should do next. His boss took out his cell phone and dialled.

"Hey Jim, it's Grissom. Find Henri Briney: we think it was his semen in Natalie's bed."

Grissom hung up and turned to face Nick. "Reopen Penny Garden's case to have informations on Briney.", he said before walking away.

"Where are you going?", Nick asked. Grissom turned again.

"I forgot I'm supposed to be in court in half an hour.", he replied. Stokes smiled: his boss had been working so hard on the miniature's case he had kept forgetting things. Nick entered the break room, where Warrick was pouring himself a cup of coffee. Stokes smiled at the other CSI before telling him what he had found out.

"C'mon man, we've got a suspect."

**(at Sara's room)**

She had just gotten out of the chair. It was always hard and painful: her arms, already weakened by the exercise, had problems supporting her weight. Even with the help of the nurses, she still found it difficult. Now that she was back in her bed, she took out her book. Opening it, the words didn't talk to them. She only heard Melissa's voice: "I didn't understand why I couldn't feel my legs". She closed the novel and looked at her feet. They felt like strangers to her. The exercises she had to do, like trying to move her toes, only reminded her of her paralysed condition.

Sara raised her head when she heard the door opening. A familiar man walked in, but she couldn't find his name. She replaced the book on the table beside the bed, and waited for him to talk. The stranger smiled.

"Hi... I... I'm Henri. Penny' nephew.", he said, understanding that Sara didn't remember him. He closed the door and took a step forward. "I heard about your accident so..."

He handed her a couple of flowers, and she thanked him nervously. She didn't understand what he was doing in her room. Even though she was investigating the death of her aunt, they had no relation. She straigtened herself in the bed.

"Hi... How are you?", she asked, unsure of what to say. She knew she didn't have much conversational skills, and it was even worse when she had to discuss with a stranger. Henri smiled and took another step, as if he had to take his time.

"Fine.", he replied. A silence followed his voice, making the situation more akward. The brunette tried to figure out what he wanted, while the man took another step. He was now standing beside her legs, the parts of her that were refusing to obey to her. She kicked herself mentally for falling back into negativity. Sofia had told her a dozen times that she had to think about something else than her handicap, but she was finding it hard. She always had troubles with limits, and her paralysed legs were a huge one.

"I heard you guys arrested my aunt's murderer.", Henri said, forcing the brunette out of her thoughts. She smiled weakly, not knowing how the case was actually going. Being one of the victims, she had rare informations on it, although some of her friends had told her a few things. She knew Natalie was in a mental institution, and that they had caught the guy that shot Sofia. Apparently, he had been helping Davis to prepare her abduction, but they didn't know if he was working on the other murders too.

"I heard the same things. The woman is in an institution.", she replied, hoping she had said enough. She hated to be questionned about the miniature killer, especially from somebody who knew a victim. She remembered him now: he was an ex-junky. They had thought he was linked to a drug dealer that lived next to his house, but it turned out he was innocent. He seemed sober, which supposed that he had not went back to his old addiction.

"Do you think Natalie will ever get out of there?", he asked as if he was wondering about what temperature it would be the next day. Sara felt a blow in her stomach. She raised her head, looking directly into his eyes.

"I never told you she was named Natalie.", she said. Henri smiled at her and took another step forward. His eyes never left Sara's face as he replied.

"Oops."

A/N: The next chapter will probably be the last!


	12. Twice Is Lucky

**Chapter Twelve**

**Twice Is Lucky**

Henri had learned in rehab that habits meant weakness. The thought had never left him: it held his hand when he walked out the glass doors and entered the taxi with him. Then it came to live with him and Aunt Penny. But Penny was full of weakness. She was a daily junkie, the worst kind. The kind that didn't understand that there was a system behind Life, and that this system had to be cracked open. The kind that accepted its mortal condition as if it was meant to be.

Coffee, liquor, cigarettes, video poker... All those things made him sick. He needed more than that; he needed perfection. When he learned Penny had been killed, he wasn't surprised. It had to be: she had accepted her death soon before it arrived. She had waited for it, distracting herself with habits, trying to forget about the sadness that overcame her each time she thought she was helpless in front of Death.

Then Henri met Natalie.

She was perfect, in every way. Even though she wasn't a talker, he had understood her the second their eyes have met. She, too, believed habits were a sickness, and that they – Henri and Natalie – had to help the others see how devastating they were. When he understood what she was doing, when he recognized the scale models in her apartment, he found out she was the one. The woman of her life.

Natalie told him how the crime scene investigators forced his father to kill himself, and how she wanted to get revenge. He listened carefully, learned about her plan. She would be able to realize it on her own, with some preparations. The next day, he came back to her apartment. He remembered the scene well.

"_What are you doing here?", Natalie asked, as if he was forcing himself in her life._

"_I'm in.", he said, and she understood what he meant. She had smiled, and then let him in. A few minutes later, without a word, he found himself in her bed, kissing the woman he loved. He realized, when she was sleeping, that he had just agreed to kill a woman. The CSI he had met before, when his aunt died. Natalie cried softly in her sleep, and Henri understood he couldn't get out of this. He kissed her lips and fell asleep._

This image of Natalie and him in her bed represented happiness for him. A joy he couldn't have anymore, now that she was away. He had heard about Mark's attempt at killing the police officer that saved the CSI trapped under the red mustang. He knew that the guy wouldn't be able to fulfill his mission. Mark wasn't only crazy about Natalie; he was simply crazy. His mental condition would stop him from being effective. That's why Henri had to complete it.

He looked at Sara, and tightened his grip on his gun. The CSI stared back at him, trying to analyze the ways of exiting this situation. Henri smiled: she seemed like an ant. A small insect, who still wasn't able to understand she had to die.

"Do you have habits, Sara?", he asked, not really interested by the answer. The brunette frowned, wondering if she could reach for the phone or the nurse alarm. The man brought his gun closer to her face, and repeated his question.

"I had some.", she replied, feeling the cold metal on her skin. Her heartbeats raised again as she heard the man getting ready to fire. She closed her eyes, wondering if she prefered to live in a wheelchair, or to die. When she opened it, she knew.

"Do you believe in the system, Sara?", he asked again, this time with a creepier voice. Sidle tried to calm herself by breathing in and out, as if she was preparing for an intense physical activity. She stared at the wall, very aware of the presence of Henri beside her.

"I believe everything is related.", she whispered. A couple of hours ago, she was complaining about the intrusions of the nurses in her private life. They kept coming in her room for various reasons, even if she was ready to leave the hospital. Now, she wished one of them would come in, although she knew it would put both their lives in danger. She heard Henri clear his throat, and remembered how sympathic he was when they interrogated him. She thought of the sadness she had seen when she had told him that his aunt was dead. All those feelings were gone now, and Henri was revealing his true self.

"You did not answer my question, bitch!", he said in a low voice, as if he was keeping himself from screaming. All of Sara's senses were now trying to find the weakness in Henri. She had to get his gun, and even when she would, she didn't know if she would be able to have control over him. There was no way she could defend herself, not with him standing so close to her.

"I don't... I don't understand your question. What system?", she replied slowly, hoping it would keep him rambling for a few minutes. She looked at the door, but no one came in. She was on her own. Henri took a step backward, unsure of the woman's intentions. He understood that she was trying to buy time, but even if someone would get into the room, he'd shoot that person and then take care of her. He didn't mind the trial, the jail or the death. He got mad at the thought that Sara wasn't understanding that he was working for something bigger than him.

"The way things work. Everything is organized, that is why we die. Habits, habits. They blind us from the truth.", he said, still holding his gun towards Sara.

"What truth?", she questionned, turning slightly her head to look at him. He let his guard down, but now Sara was too far from him to get the gun. She tried to think quick, but there was nothing in this room that could help her.

"Life is chaos. To live, we have to renew ourselves everyday, to create, to recreate.", he answered, suddenly coming closer to Sara. The metal of the revolver glued itself to her skin as she closed her eyes again, praying that she would survive. The heartbeats increased again, forcing her to restart her breathing exercise.

"Killing me... Won't make you eternal.", she whispered, hoping it would make him lose his balance, but not his calm. The door chose this time to open itself, allowing a blonde detective in Sara's room. The brunette opened her eyes at the sound, but the sight made her shiver: even though Sofia was probably armed, it meant everything would be over soon. The gun left her head to point itself at the detective, who didn't move.

"Close the door, and walk in.", he ordered. Sofia was turned in a statue; her legs refused to listen to her. She stared as Henri's revolver met again with Sara's skin. "Close the door, and walk in.", he repeated in the same calm voice.

Sofia obeyed, her brain still analysing the situation. She took a footstep towards the bed, but Henri told her to stop. She stood still, eyes locked on Sara's face, trying to understand what was going on. Her thoughts kept yelling in her brain as she looked at the man. Still threatening to kill Sara, he smiled.

"Well I guess you're the one Mark shot.", he stated, his eyes running from the brunette to the blonde. "That idiot... Unable to fulfill anything."

"Shouldn't talk about your friends like that.", the detective replied, as if she was speaking to a five-year-old. The remark provoked a sudden reaction from the man.

"He's not my friend! He wanted to steal my girlfriend!", Henri yelled, losing control of his feelings. He had always hated Mark, but Natalie liked him. She said he had a right to know the truth too, and that he had a sincere heart. Henri felt betrayed each time her eyes layed on Mark instead of him. When he heard that Mark had been shot, he wished he was dead. But the guy had resisted, and remained alive.

"Some things never change.", whispered Sara in a bitter voice. Henri turned to look at the brunette, pointing his gun in front of her eyes.

"What did you say, bitch?", he yelled. Sidle knew he was losing it: she only had to keep him going until Sofia had the time to reach for her gun.

"I said that some things, never change.", she repeated, her eyes in Henri's. He seemed furious, ready to fire his revolver. Sara mentally begged Sofia to act faster, even though she knew it left her only a few seconds to get her gun out. The thought that Sofia hadn't brought her gun ran through her head, reached her stomach and made her feel sick. It died when it reached her legs, just as all neurological messages her brain was trying to send at the time. A voice in her kept screaming "Run!", while the rest of her body mocked the idea. She couldn't.

"Put your gun down.", Sofia said in a firm voice. The brunette continued to stare at Henri, even though she wanted to see if the blonde had her gun. The man stared at her and didn't make a move.

"Listen to her, Henri.", Sara added, making it sound more like an advice than an order.

"Put your gun down, Henri.", Sofia repeated with her calm tone. Slowly, the man turned himself to see a revolver pointing at him. He looked at it as if he had just been betrayed. He wondered why he had not calculate this part, why he had never thought someone would walk in, someone with a gun. He raised his revolver, threatening Sofia. The blonde didn't move.

"What are you going to do? Kill me?", he asked, trying to win some time. He was well-aware that the roles were now reversed: he was in the inferior position. He smiled: he knew what he had to do. He brought the gun back next to Sara's head.

"Are you afraid to die?", he questionned the brunette, his eyes still watching both women. Sara closed her eyes.

"Yes.", she answered with tears in her voice. She did not want him to pity her, but she did not want to die like an heroin either. She was terrified by the idea of death itself; knowing that hers was imminent, she couldn't lie. The gun left her skin again, and pointed Sofia.

"I am.", the blonde said, knowing the same question would apply to her. She breathed in deeply. "I'm terribly afraid of having to spend eternity next to freaks like you."

Sara heard the two shots without knowing who had fired first. She saw the two bodies falling simultaneously on the ground, and started lifting her legs with her arms. She managed to get them out of the bed, and then threw herself on the floor. She crawled to get to Sofia, who was bleeding from the chest.

"Twice is lucky.", the blonde whispered in pain. Sara grabbed her hand, hoping the nurses and doctors would arrive any second, although she didn't want to let go yet. She heard the door bust open and the yells of the crowd who had just noticed the blood. A few meters away, a bullet finished destroying Henri's brain as Sofia closed her eyes.

"Don't let go.", begged Sara, as she felt the detective's hold on her hand disappear. She took her pulse as paramedics ran into the room. She didn't know how she got back in the wheelchair, nor how Sofia's blood found its way to her hair, her hands, her thoughts and her inside. When Grissom arrived, half an hour later, she was still sitting in the chair, looking at a white wall. She saw him running through the police officers, the investigators and the doctors to join her. He took her in his arms but she still didn't move. He backed away and stared at her.

"Sara?", he said, trying to have her attention.

"She's dead.", she declared with no emotion. Her eyes looked empty, and her clothes were still stained with the detective's blood. Grissom looked down, unable to find the words. He still couldn't understand why the blonde was dead, but he knew that because of her presence, his lover was still alive. He thanked her mentally.

"You want to go home now?", he asked in a soft voice.

"I think...", she started, and then looked at the crowd. "I don't really care."

A/N: I love Sofia, but someone had to die, and it could not be me.


End file.
